The Doppelganger
by Karashi
Summary: As if dealing with one dark prince wasn't difficult enough... This is a drabble-fic, meaning intentionally short chapters. AU B/V
1. Real

**Disclaimers: **Dragon Ball Z and its respective characters belong to Akira Toriyama.**  
Warnings:** Rape and violence. If either upsets you, please turn away.**  
Author's Notes:** Thanks to a conversation I had with Nintendocat over at the Blue and Black writing community on LJ (community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/bulmavegeta) I ended up writing this rather dark drabble-fic. Chapters will be very short but updates will be relatively regular. I like comments and reviews.

* * *

**Title:** Real**  
Prompt:** Whisper  
**Word Count:** 500

A silent alarm alerted Bulma that someone was inside the mansion. But the monitors insisted there was no one on the premises besides the heiress. With her parents away on vacation and the Saiyan Prince still training off world she would have agreed with the security system.

But she couldn't bring herself to believe it was just a glitch. Not since those dreams _-nightmares_ she had these past few months.

"He's not real," she murmured beneath her breath, pulling her robe closed over her silk nightgown.

A menacing chuckle came from behind her.

Her breath caught in her throat, slowly turning to face him, barely able to utter, "Vegeta."

Except he wasn't _her_ Vegeta, though he looked exactly the same were it not for the tail wrapped around his waist and the manner of armor he wore. He was some sort of shade, some fiendish phantasm wrought from her collective nightmares of when he still served under Frieza.

He was upon her before she could even scream.

He pushed her onto the console, roughly silencing her shrieks of anger as his mouth descended on hers. He tore at her clothes as his tail caught both her wrists. He was eager to continue where he had left off since their last encounter over a month ago, with her struggling beneath him, naked and vulnerable and helpless.

Bulma was caged in, the metal console beneath her, powerful arms on either side of her, the doppelganger above her and –oh Kami, he was inside her! She screamed in time to his brutal thrusts, cursing and clawing and biting, never once surrendering to him. But it only turned him on even more and made his strokes harsher.

Through sheer force of will, Bulma managed to remind herself that this was just a nightmare, that this wasn't happening.

"You're not real," she rasped, throat raw.

At this, he began to fade.

"No!" he snarled, his grip tightening on the console, fingers digging into the surface as if it was made of dough not metal. "I _am_ real," he hissed, keeping his dark, malice-filled eyes locked on Bulma's tear-streaked face.

For a brief moment he seemed to solidify.

She leveled a hateful glare at him, repeated: "You're not real!"

Slowly he disappeared, became less tangible, less _there_. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and felt the suffocating pressure of his presence lift from her naked body. He growled low in her ear and she brushed him aside. Opening her eyes she expected to find herself in her room, undoubtedly drenched in sweat. But rather than pink-and-purple wallpaper greeting her, it was impersonal steel that she saw.

She shivered; her skin was prickled with goosebumps. She glanced down, gasping at the torn shreds of her robe and nightgown lying at her feet. Dread filled her at the sight of deep furrows on the console where his fingers had gripped.

And as doubt began to form in her mind, she heard him whisper.

_"I'll be back."_


	2. Remember

**Warnings:** Attempted rape. If this triggers you, please turn away.**  
Author's Notes:** A flashback of sorts to where the doppelganger "left off" in Real.  
**

* * *

Title:** Remember**  
Prompt:** Grip  
**Word Count:** 500

Bulma wasn't surprised to find the arrogant Saiyan houseguest looming over her bed that night. After all, he made it very clear he valued discretion during their evening encounters. Her blanket fell to her waist as she sat up. "Had enough of training in outer space or did you just miss me?"

She tensed when the faint moonlight streaming through her windows caught the edges of his armor's pauldrons.

"You," She hissed in recognition.

Instantly, he was pushing her down, grinning, fangs-bared.

"N-no!" she gasped from underneath him. One of his hands locked her arms overhead while the other ripped her tank top off. "S-stop!" she growled when he gave the same treatment to the rest of her clothes.

He ignored her protests, seemingly mesmerized by the sight of her naked form. His hand roamed over her breasts, down the valley of her stomach to cup between her legs. She closed her thighs around him in hopes of hindering him but his tail easily remedied that, winding about the underside of her knee to part her legs just as he slipped experienced fingers in and out of her folds.

"Why are you doing this?" she whimpered in between gasps of horrified pleasure.

"You shouldn't have made me that offer back then," he answered, a deep chuckle in his throat, his obsidian eyes burning with hunger.

"B-back then?" she blinked, finding it more and more difficult to think as he increased the pace of his ministrations. The longer he touched her, the stronger the velvet fist of desire clutched at her mind and coiled tighter the noose of need and aching want.

Her hips began to buck against him desperately, though some small part of her was screaming for her to stop, to clear her thoughts and _remember_. She wasn't certain what exactly she needed to remember, she didn't even realize he had let her wrists go until she felt him gripping her hips with firm hands, and his arousal resting at her entrance.

"Is it really this easy to subdue your kind?" he laughed smugly into the shell of her ear. "Or just you?"

"Asshole," she hissed, finally remembering: "You're not real!"

She cried out when his hold on her hips turned vice-like, her eyes wrenching shut as his Ki flared and an unbearable heat burned her.

She opened a bleary eye and saw it was a shaft of sunlight that warmed her skin. Sitting upright, she found her clothes whole, if somewhat rumpled, and her blanket roped tightly about her legs. She gave a sigh of relief, shakily untangling herself from her sheets to pad towards the bathroom to begin the day and put the nightmare behind her.

Leaning over the sink, Bulma tensed when she caught sight of her reflection. With trembling hands, she lifted the hem of her top and swallowed a scream.

On her hips, darkening to a deep purple, were hand-shaped bruises.


	3. Begin

**Warnings:** Suggestive scenes**  
Author's Notes:** Another flashback, this time to when the nightmares all started.

* * *

**Title:** Begin**  
Prompt:** Ebony  
**Word Count:** 500

Blue eyes flew open, a hand clutching at her throat, lungs burning for air, blanket-swathed body trembling like a leaf in a storm. It took Bulma several minutes for her heart to stop threatening to burst in her chest. It took several more minutes for the paralyzing fear to leave her limbs and grant her mobility.

She craned her neck to look at the clock, surprised to find it was just half past midnight. She drew her covers closer against her, unable keep her mind from replaying that strange, terrifying dream.

And it was just a dream, wasn't it? From the moment she felt the hunger pangs, to deciding to go grab a midnight snack, and everything thereafter?

She had pulled her robe over shirt and shorts and proceeded to the kitchen, knowing there would be something to eat as her mother always made more than necessary. In case a certain alien Prince came back from training.

He had returned that night, which surprised her since she never heard his spacecraft land. The possibility that he arrived elsewhere and just flew back home occurred to her so she didn't give it another thought. But he had only been gone for a few weeks. After all his caustic talk how she and this pathetic "mudball" were holding him back from ascending, she didn't think he'd be back so soon.

The blue-haired heiress felt a twinge of jealousy that the first place he went to was the kitchen and not her room. Then again, Vegeta _was_ averse to showing any sign of affection, Kami forbid he ever gave the impression he actually cared about her. She had assumed he didn't want anyone to know he was back, and that was why only the auxiliary lights were on.

She humored him his need for secrecy and darkness, knowing her way around the kitchen well enough. But she began to suspect something was amiss when he didn't engage her in their usual arguments, even more so when he refused to eat the food she reheated. When she resorted to seduction, his response would have them end up in her bedroom.

Except.

Except he had a _tail_. And his armor shouldn't have pauldrons.

She somehow managed to turn the lights on and realized the Saiyan standing in her kitchen wasn't Vegeta. She couldn't explain how she knew, she just did. She screwed up her courage, ordering the doppelganger to leave. He was snarling threats in her face, his hand round her throat.

A cold sweat broke over her as the stark, unapologetic madness in his eyes twisted into burning, unrestrained lust. She knew she could do nothing to stop him from taking her.

"This can't be happening," she whimpered, her eyes squeezed shut.

"Go right ahead, Woman. Tell yourself I'm not real," he'd taunted.

With a trembling voice she declared, "You're not real."

Then she woke. A hand clutching at her throat, lungs burning for air, blanket-swathed body trembling like a leaf in a storm.


	4. Obviously

**Warnings:** None  
**Author's Notes:** Bulma takes action! Well, sorta.

* * *

**Title:** Obviously  
**Prompt:** Brood  
**Word Count:** 400

"Bulma? Is something wrong? You sound terrible," ChiChi asked over the phone.

"I look even worse, ChiChi," she chuckled mirthlessly before growing silent and quietly continuing, "I honestly don't know. I think I'm losing my mind. And it's all because of those damn nightmares!"

"What were they about?"

Bulma ignored the question, "I just don't understand it. There were only _three_ of them, for Kami's sake!"

"What were they about?" ChiChi repeated.

The heiress didn't seem to hear her, continuing to ramble. "But they're like those pause-and-play dreams but not quite because there's always something different about me during each time. But then again-"

"BULMA!" ChiChi snapped; her tone sharp but laced with concern. "_What_ were your nightmares about?"

A long, uncomfortable pause.

"Bulma?"

A hesitant, near inaudible, "Vegeta."

"What about Vegeta?" ChiChi sounded tense.

Unsteadily, Bulma forced herself to give her friend a severely watered-down account of the three nightmares.

"He hurt you!" ChiChi roared, "Was that why that murdering alien left?"

"It wasn't Vegeta. Well it was him but not _him_ him oh Kami, I know it doesn't make sense but he's not the problem! _I_ am."

"What do you mean?"

"I _know_ that it's all in my head. But it _felt_ so real I think my body actually believed it was real. I'm worried that the next time I dream something worse will happen. But I don't even know when it'll happen again "

"_If_ it'll happen again," ChiChi corrected.

"_When_," Bulma insisted, "He told me he'd be back."

"Have you talked to Dende about this?"

"I think wishing on the Dragon Balls is a little extreme, ChiChi. But hey, if it turns out I'm crazy you guys are free to wish me back to sanity," she laughed in a pitiful attempt to reassure her friend.

"Bulma, I'm serious, I have a really bad feeling about this."

"You're just saying that because you don't know Vegeta."

"You don't either if he's been attacking you in your sleep."

"It was the Vegeta that tried to purge Chikyuu!"

"You are going to talk to Dende and that's final," ChiChi declared. "We'll pick you up tomorrow."

Bulma hung up with a sigh. She was worried she would learn she wasn't losing her mind and that the doppelganger _had_ forced himself on her. Because if that was the case, Bulma was going to have to kill him. She needed to get ready.


	5. Dreaming

**Warnings:** Suggestive scenes but nothing explicit.  
**Author's Notes:** What the Doppelganger meant by "the Offer" in Remember.

* * *

**Title:** Dreaming  
**Prompt:** Dazed  
**Word Count:** 700

When the Saiyan opened his eyes, he expected to find himself in a haze of cryo-sleep induced dreams. Not some sort of dimly lit alien kitchen.

"Hey, when did you get back?"

It was only his sense of disconnect that kept Vegeta from obliterating the slender, blue-haired female that had sauntered into the room. Vegeta narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her, studying the loose robe wrapped around her form, equally searching for some concealed weapon and noting the curves of her exposed legs.

"What? Don't recognize me without the perm?" she smirked, threading her fingers through her straight, silky hair that ended past her chin.

Vegeta considered snapping that delicate-looking neck of hers and growled at the insolence of her tone. Rather than cowering in fear, she simply chuckled. With a familiarity that Vegeta didn't know what to make of but put him on guard.

"Sit yourself down, Ouji-sama, I'll make you something to eat," she smiled, absently gesturing to the table in the center of the room. When he made no motion to comply, the woman just shrugged and proceeded to do as she promised.

He never took his eyes off her, not while she cooked, not even after she laid several plates down on the table before him. A quick glance at the proffered food and he folded his arms across his chest.

The woman rolled her eyes, "Oh for Kami's sake, Vegeta, you've lived with us for over a year," she frowned, plucking a sliver of what looked like meat and popping it into her mouth. "If we wanted to poison you we'd have done it already."

He stalked towards her, slowly, menacingly, eyes ablaze in anger. She responded by letting her robe fall open, flashing him the alluring swell of her breasts beneath her tight shirt, the smooth dip of her bare stomach, a sultry smile on her lips, "Or are you hungry for something _else?_"

A dark brow arched in interest. Purging Arlia-sei had momentarily sated Vegeta's destructive nature but perhaps his subconscious was telling him he had other primal urges he needed to address. If he was dreaming, he might as well enjoy himself. A feral grin pulled at his lips and the woman took this as her cue to press herself flush against him and lock her mouth with his.

He slid one hand underneath her shirt, the other tugging at the elastic of her shorts while she undid the clasps of his armor. He gave a soft growl when her hand brushed against his tail and suddenly felt her tense. She pushed away from him then, confusion visible on her face as she stumbled back to the wall to flip a switch, flooding the room with light. She gasped as if seeing him for the first time and the hungry heat in her eyes became cold fear.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded, pulling her robe closed over her.

The Saiyan caught the subtle way she inched towards the door and smirked, "From the way you've been acting you ought to know, Woman."

"I don't know who the hell you are but you're not Vegeta," she hissed, "And you'd better leave before I call Goku on your sorry ass!"

He had her by the throat before she could blink, snarling viciously into her face, "How you know my name is beyond me, but I will tolerate only so much insolence, you mouthy little bitch." He gave her neck a light squeeze, felt so much give beneath his fingers, and barely held back the urge to completely still the breath in her body.

Perhaps he will. Later. _Much_ later. He leered at her silent, wide-eyed plea, loosening his grip to feel the mad pounding of her pulse while his free hand roughly groped her breasts through her shirt.

"This can't be happening," she whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut as his hold on her throat made it impossible for her to turn away.

He sneered at her, leaning in close to breathe in her scent, wickedly murmuring, "Go right ahead, Woman. Tell yourself I'm not real."

And when she did, he suddenly found himself back in his one-man pod, grasping nothing but air.


	6. Caught

**Warnings:** None  
**Author's Notes:** Literal interpretation of prompt is literal! That is all I have to say for the matter.

* * *

**Title:** Caught  
**Prompt:** Empty House  
**Word Count:** 650

There will be no interruptions this time, Vegeta grimaced to himself, tail twitching behind him as he silently stalked through the dark, unlit compound the Woman lived in. She was a slippery bitch, Vegeta had to give her that. Each time he returned to this particular dreamscape with her particular dream-self, he wound up having to track her down.

He normally didn't mind as the anticipation made the getting so much sweeter. He simply didn't think so brief a taste could have so great an effect on him. But it did _does_. She had caused a maddening, feverish desire to consume all other thoughts save for her, continuing both in waking and dreaming.

Until she was all he could think about. Vegeta snarled at that. She will pay for what she's done to him, if not in this dreamscape, then in the others. This he swore.

His lips curled to bare teeth, a low growl in his throat upon finding the main building empty. She was only delaying the inevitable. He will find her, as he had done before. And when he does... a wicked grin formed as he pictured everything he intended to do, everything he _will_ do to that exquisite, delicate body of hers.

Vegeta sniffed at the evening air, half-wishing he was able to bring his scouter to these dreamlands then deciding to simply add this minor inconvenience to the ever-growing list of grievances he had against her. He caught a faint wisp of her scent after some time, onyx eyes narrowing when he noted it seemed to originate from the grounds beyond the large, dome-shaped domicile.

Far off in the distance, he could make out the silhouette of some sort of structure despite the darkness. It was suspicious of her to hide in such an exposed building. But perhaps there was more to it than meets the eye?

The nearer he drew, the stronger her scent became, and the wider he grinned.

He stopped at the doorway; once again half-wishing he had his scouter to pinpoint her exact location. The entire building smelled of her. He had hoped to catch her off-guard as he had the last time, but she was proving to be smarter than he thought her capable.

His gloved hand ran over the building's smooth wall searching for something. A hidden contour caved beneath his touch and a door slid open.

_How predictable,_ he smirked darkly. She should have known better than to think she would be safe from him in such an isolated location. It didn't matter where she hid inside the building now that he had access.

He had her all to himself. And now that he understood things he didn't during his first three visits, he had all the time in the world.

Silently, he entered and found himself inside a large room that nearly encompassed the entire structure. Vegeta couldn't help but lick his lips in anticipation. The Woman's scent was so strong he could almost taste her.

The door slid shut behind him with a faint hiss. Instantly the room came alive, the lights flickered on, momentarily blinding the Saiyan of the console built into the wall to his far right. The walls began to vibrate, the white noise of humming of energy softly buzzing at his ears.

And the next thing Vegeta knew, the floor was rushing up to greet him with an embrace that had no intention of letting him go.

Flaring his Ki did nothing to alleviate the suffocating pressure that bore down on him. He struggled to rise, muscles screaming when he pulled himself up just enough to could turn towards the console. With a roar trapped in his throat, he collapsed back to the ground. His dark eyes flashed angrily when the monitor blinked on and the sight of the Woman's face appeared, glaring down at him in contempt.

"How predictable," she sneered.


	7. Turnabout

**Warning:** Suggestive scenes  
**Author's Notes:** Thank you's to YourSweetSinner and Kirai-Ninja. Your reviews encourage me to update sooner.

* * *

**Title:** Turnabout  
**Prompt:** Cynic  
**Word Count:** 300

"Not expecting that, were you?" Bulma asked, voice sharp enough to cut. "Of course you weren't. You're just a cheap knock-off of the real thing back before Goku beat Frieza's sorry ass."

She ignored the sharp energy fluctuation when she mentioned the Tsiru-jin, continuing, "Wish I could say I have you right where I want you, but I actually want you gone." The look on her face turned ugly as the memory of him plunging viciously into her, his hands bruising skin as he held her down, his dark obsidian eyes glittering in wicked glee flashed before her mind's eye.

"I want you dead," she hissed venomously, "I'm not all too sure if one _can_ kill a figment the subconscious dreams up. But I'm willing to try and find out."

She saw his lips move, the veins bulging on his throat as he strained to say something.

"Not a figment," he wheezed.

"Oh no? Then what are you? A hallucination? Because, shit, if you are then the real you was right all this time in calling me crazy. Hell if I ever let him know that," she muttered, "Whatever you are, it doesn't matter. You're not real."

Bulma waited for him to fade, to disappear as he had always done whenever she denied his existence. Minutes passed but the doppelganger was still onscreen, pinned to the ground from the high levels of gravity.

Again he struggled to speak, this time rasping, "Other way around, Woman."

Blue eyes narrowed in a mixture of suspicion and confusion. "Combining metaphysical concepts with an attempt at reverse psychology? You're _definitely_ something my brain cooked up."

He suddenly rose to his feet with surprising ease, the corner of his mouth tugging into a triumphant smirk. "Keep telling yourself that, Woman."

Then Ki-fire engulfed the console.


	8. Here

**Warnings:** None  
**Author's Notes:** Even though this is a drabble-fic, the occasional "long" update happens. Not often.

* * *

**Title:** Here  
**Prompt:** Laugh  
**Word Count:** 1,200

Seething frustration was surging through Vegeta's veins, aggravating the hairpin-trigger the recent events had put his temper on. Nothing had gone his way, nothing had gone as planned, and the last thing he wanted, needed, or expected upon returning to the main building of the grounds was a blaring alarm that he swore was pitched to make his ears bleed.

_What the fuck did that Woman do now?_ he snarled to himself, barely able to hear his own thoughts from the loud pounding in his head.

He went straight for the main building, pushed open the door and was instantly greeted by a burst of energy that mimicked a Ki-blast. It did little to the Saiyan, just pushed him back by an inch and left a scuff on the front of his chestplate. He heard rather than saw the wall-mounted laser-gun charge for another shot and Vegeta showed the contraption what a _real_ Ki-blast was like.

By the third room and the third attempt at his life, Vegeta decided he was through playing games. This nonsense was going to end. Now.

Despite the havoc that wretched alarm wrought on his senses, the Saiyan Prince still managed to track down the Woman to a bunker buried deep underground. Blessed silence met Vegeta's sensitive hearing as he moved farther and farther away from the surface. Again he was met with resistance when he barged through the locked door. Electricity shot up from the floor, singed the soles of his boots, and crackled through his body.

Snarling curses in his mother tongue, he broke contact with the ground to hover mid-air, his features twisted with grim, barely suppressed fury. Perhaps later he would admire the numerous traps the Woman had laid out for him. In the meantime, she will have to learn that this wouldn't be enough to stop him from finding her.

_Nothing_ would ever be enough to stop him from finding her.

It wasn't long before he came upon her hiding spot within the subterranean stronghold, he could smell her fear from behind the thick, reinforced steel doors. A ball of Ki formed in his hand before he flicked the sphere at the doors, expecting an explosion of shrapnel only to have his energy ricochet back at him.

Even with his black mood, he found his lips curling into a small smirk of admiration. He really had to hand it to her. She was one clever little bitch. But no matter what Ki-reflecting device she created, it was absolutely useless against a Saiyan's ungodly strength.

Nerve-grating squeals filled the air as fingers ripped through alloy with the nonchalance of tearing paper. A bolt of energy slammed into his chest the instant he cleared the threshold. Whatever it was that hit him sapped him of his strength and he fell to his knees. It was only thanks to the iron will he'd forged under years of servitude to Frieza and the shame-filled rage of having yet again underestimated her that kept him from completely collapsing.

The barrel of a pistol was pressed to his forehead and he gazed up to find the blue-haired woman standing over him. Her azure eyes regarded him with disgust and contempt, her frail form shaking with fear and a rage that rivaled his own.

"Why couldn't you have just left me alone?" she hissed tremulously.

In the time it took for her to steel her nerves and prepare to fire her weapon a second time, Vegeta had regained his strength and speed. The pistol was in his hands before she was even aware he had risen, and he had her pinned against the wall on the far side of the room before she could draw the breath to scream.

"Do you _want_ me to kill you, Woman?" the Saiyan demanded, crushing the gun into a useless lump while resisting the urge to do the same to her windpipe.

"Go ahead!" she shrieked teeth bared, her body twisting and writhing against him. "It's not like you'll regret it!"

"The only thing I regret is that I was training in space when your feeble mind finally snapped!" he roared.

She went stock-still, mouth slightly agape as she stared at him through the tears that streamed down her cheeks. When he felt the madness in her had finished running its course, he slowly released his hold on her neck, but he continued to study her with suspicion. He let her clammy, trembling hands reach up to touch his face, allowed her fingers to brush along his skin, alert for any sudden movements that might be laced with ill-intentions.

Then her blue eyes widened as if seeing him for the first time.

"Woman, what–"

"It's you! It's the real you!" she declared, promptly burying her face against his armored chest, half-laughing, half-sobbing, neither half particularly soft. Neither half particularly _sane_ but Vegeta had always suspected the blue-haired inventor was mental.

He held her by the shoulders at arm's length, less in distaste for her blubbering and more from having no idea how to comfort her. Her hands closed over his, a crooked smile on her lips, relief and trust radiating from her eyes still wet with standing tears. "Kami, you have no idea how good it is to see _your_ arrogant ass, Vegeta."

Slowly, he pulled his arms back to his side, finding he didn't like the way she said _your_. But before he could ask her what she meant by it, she let out a sigh, her body going slack when she suddenly slumped forward in a dead faint.

"W-Woman! Bulma!" he hissed in surprise, easily catching her before she fell to the floor. Instinctively he checked her for injuries, skimming the edges of her Ki to find she had simply succumbed to exhaustion. She must have been running on empty, pushing herself with nothing but fear-borne adrenaline. For reasons Vegeta will never comprehend she trusted him enough that she could lower her guard and just sleep.

Judging from the dark circles under her eyes and the sickly pallor of her skin she needed rest. Badly. He cradled her to his chest, groaning when he realized she hadn't deactivated the ear-splitting alarm that was undoubtedly still ringing. He'll be damned if he subjected himself to that annoyance or risked waking the Woman with the shrill noise.

He scanned the room she had holed herself up in and found an unused, one-man cot wedged against the corner. He didn't know how long she'd been here, but he knew she was capable of staying awake for long periods of time, having seen her work on her machines with feverish inspiration. When he began to set her down, her hands shot out, unconsciously clinging to him like a drowning man would a lifeline. He suppressed a groan and felt his eye twitch.

It would be easy to disentangle himself from her grip, even if she clutched at him so tightly her knuckles paled. But seeing her sleeping face twist in desperate agony when he began to pull away? Not so much.

And he hated that he found himself on the cot, his back to the wall with her curled in his lap.


	9. What?

**Warnings:** None except maybe exposition up the wazoo!  
**Author's Notes:** Thank you to everyone who left a review! It's a long weekend here so there might be a couple of updates on the way XD

**

* * *

Title:** What?  
**Prompt:** Covered Up  
**Word Count:** 1,100

"Well? What's the verdict, Dende? Am I going out to lunch?" Bulma asked as the young Nameksei-jin pulled his hands away from her face.

Chikyuu's new deity tilted his head in confusion. "Only if you're hungry?"

ChiChi shook her head and explained, "Bulma's asking if she's going crazy."

"Oh." Dende looked to his right where Chikyuu's former Nameksei-jin guardian stood for some form guidance, sharing with Piccolo the bits and pieces of information he'd gleaned from the blue-haired woman that weren't too terribly private. Though Piccolo was better equipped to deal with matters of a more violent nature, Dende needed the aid of someone with more knowledge and experience. As both a deity and a being, Dende was still too young, too (for lack of a better word) green to know how to deal with the problem at hand.

"You aren't going crazy," Piccolo responded on Dende's behalf.

"Not any more than she already is," Vegeta snidely added beneath his breath from behind one of the Look Out's pillars.

"So it's just stress then?" Bulma sighed, felt the relieved smile on her face falter at the way friends did not look like they agreed with her assumptions.

"You are stressed but that isn't the problem," Dende began carefully, knowing it wouldn't do to further agitate the blue-haired woman or her friends. Or the surly, vicious, murdering Saiyan Prince standing apart from the group like some sort of interloper (Dende hadn't completely forgiven Vegeta his actions on Nameksei) pretending none of this concerned him in any way. "You seem to be some sort of beacon for that doppelganger you've been encountering."

Bulma's eyes flashed in anger, "Are you telling me I keep dreaming of him because I've been calling to him?"

"Not intentionally," Piccolo cut in, "He's drawn to you. And if the memories Nail has are correct, he's drawn to every instance of you." He ignored the multiple pairs of confused eyes turning to him as he continued. "He's more than just something you dreamed up, Bulma, he's from another reality."

"L-like the boy from the future?"

"Yes, only he seems to have come from the past."

Bulma snorted, "That doesn't explain why the hell he's drawn to me." She grew quiet, "Is there any way for us to stop him from coming here? Can we wish it with the dragon balls?"

Dende shook his head, antennas drooping slightly, "We can no more wish him from appearing than we can wish him dead. He has to allow it first."

"Would killing him mess anything up?" the quiet tone of Bulma's voice stunned everyone but Piccolo and Vegeta.

Her friends knew of her temper, some of them had been on the receiving end when they were younger, but her intentions had always been to hurt and humiliate not outright kill. Her suggestion to kill Gero had the well being of Chikyuu and mankind behind it but this soft-spoken question of hers sounded different. It had the beginnings of black hatred. The kind that festered inside someone, tearing and clawing at anything good until they were nothing but vengeful shells of their former selves.

The kind Piccolo and Vegeta were more than familiar with, having held that sort of darkness in them not too long ago. And this prompted the warrior Nameksei-jin to mentally suggest to Dende that he choose his next words carefully. While he was not particularly close with the blue-haired Chikyuu-jin, he knew she had an effect on the two Saiyans.

"It might," Dende whispered, "I can't be sure but the signature he left behind during his visits matches that of the one in our timeline."

"Meaning if we kill him we risk altering our own reality," Bulma hissed ominously, hands balling into tight fists as she stiffly made her way to the aircar. "I guess there's no other way."

"Bulma, what are you planning?" ChiChi asked concerned.

"Dende said we can't wish him from coming here if he doesn't allow it," the heiress replied calmly as she revved up the engine. "The solution is simple: I _give_ him a reason to allow it."

Goku was in the passenger's seat, snatching the keys out of the ignition before she could fly off. "Bulma, don't do anything drastic!"

"The fool is correct, Woman. What can you possibly hope to do?" Vegeta scoffed, still not emerging from the pillar.

"I'll think of something. It may mean I won't have as much time to dedicate to your precious GR, Vegeta, but you wouldn't want me handling power tools if I'm not in my proper state of mind," she promised, extending her hand towards Goku for the keys to her aircar.

ChiChi was suddenly in her face, shaking her by the shoulders, half-asking half-screaming if she was out of her mind and why won't she let her friends help her.

"Because he'll try to kill you guys and that would force Goku to kill him. And aside from him appearing in our reality, I really, really love my life." she snuck a quick glance where the Saiyan Prince had stood, not knowing he had quietly slipped away at some point during ChiChi's frenzied display of concern. "And I don't want to risk a moment of that."

_I still want the real you in my life, you arrogant son of a bitch,_ she thought with an odd fondness.

"We're not letting you stay all alone," ChiChi huffed, yanking Goku into the aircar and to her side.

"I won't be, Vegeta will be there."

"He's not going to lift a finger to help you. He didn't even want to be here," the dark-haired mother reminded her.

"He's not such a bad guy, ChiChi," Goku assured his wife, affectionately kissing her on the cheek, "And if he was, Bulma knows she has us to help her, right?" the smile on his face was slightly strained, as if he was beginning to entertain the idea of doubting the other Saiyan.

"Vegeta's had tons of chances to hurt me since I invited him to stay and he hasn't," Bulma gave them both a confident nod, "This other-him isn't the same man. And now I have a better idea of what I'm up against. Trust me when I say I'll think of something. I _am_ a genius, after all!"

Her haughty declaration seemed to calm Goku down and the tension in ChiChi's face eased marginally. At least enough that when she asked for the keys to her transportation they returned it.

Wordlessly, she flew back home.

Not wanting to tell her friends that she had _already_ thought of something.


	10. Nothing

**Warnings:** None  
**Author's Notes:** Whom are you really trying to convince, Vegeta?

* * *

**Title:** Nothing  
**Prompt:** Red  
**Word Count:** 100

Bulma was just a convenience. Just a means to an end. As long as Vegeta got what he wanted from the Woman, whatever happened to her was none of his concern. But since this doppelganger of his was interfering with her ability to cater to his whims, he decided to oblige her his aid.

He will break bone, rend flesh, and spill blood because it was convenient for _him_. That was all there was.

The fact the very thought that someone laid their hands on his Woman made the Saiyan see red had nothing to do with it.

_Nothing_ whatsoever.


	11. Suffer

**Warnings:** None  
**Author's Notes:** I interpreted the prompt as "giving in." To what exactly I don't know.

**

* * *

Title:** Suffer  
**Prompt:** Cave  
**Word Count:** 1,400

At best it had been a breathy whisper in the back of his head, nothing more than an inkling, a wisp, intangible and immaterial but obstinately _there_. Iron-will had helped him filter out the white noise of everything else to focus solely on that gossamer presence, allowed it to guide him through the multitude of dreamscapes and dream himself to where she was. It had always been faint and he found himself in her general proximity, only recently requiring a bit more effort on his part to track her down.

But that night it seemed sharper, clearer, more like he was being summoned as opposed to merely being led. And when Vegeta opened his eyes he felt himself tense warily when his sights fell upon the Woman standing out on the balcony. He felt his temper flare as he recalled the way she had caught him and nearly killed him had he not willed himself back to the waking realm. He remembered the way her eyes grew wide in absolute horror when the laws of her reality no longer affected him. It took every ounce of his will and focus to have his Ki remain corporeal long enough to destroy the console.

What she had done made her undeserving of a quick, painless death.

Her back was turned to him, posture relaxed, giving no indication she was aware of his presence or of her doomed existence. She was bathed in the waning moonlight of a crescent moon, garbed in a dress that hung loosely about her shoulders and ended just at her knees. It would have been a modest garment had it not been made of mesh and lace that revealed as much of her silken skin as it concealed. She idly rubbed her foot against the back of her leg, her shoulders briefly trembling as a chilly breeze threaded its fingers through her aqua tresses.

For a moment, _just_ for a moment, the heat of his anger burned into carnal hunger. He shook his head clear of that thought, a low snarl escaping his throat.

She spun on her heels with a gasp, arms bracing themselves against the balcony railings when she finally realized he was there. He couldn't keep himself from drinking in every curve of her body visible through the sheer fabric and the rapid rise and fall of her chest, only barely did he acknowledge the odd-shaped pendant resting between the swell of her breasts. The fear in her wide, blue eyes were not nearly as potent as the fear he smelled radiating from her body. Coupled with her delectable scent, it was all he could do not to simply throw her to the ground, tear off the offending garment that dared stand between their skin, and take her until he was spent.

And to his surprise, she calmed down with each deep breath she drew.

"I was waiting for you," she stated, voice surprisingly strong as she propped her elbows atop the railing while she leaned back against the balcony.

His tail lashed agitatedly behind him once before it wound back around his waist. He could tell she was up to something and after their last encounter he would not make the same mistake of lowering his guard. He said nothing, his dark eyes staring at her, studying her for any signs of ill intent that he was certain she was hiding.

His silence prompted her to continue, "I know you have something of an interest in me."

He smirked, "And what makes you think that, Woman?"

"There must be a reason you keep coming back for me specifically," she flashed him a sultry smile, coyly twirling a finger around a lock of her hair.

Onyx eyes narrowed at her as he folded his arms across his chest. The Woman was correct in her assumption. He _did_ have a reason but he doubted she knew what it was. Her next words would confirm his suspicions.

"You've had a taste of Bulma Briefs and you simply can't get enough of me. It's nothing to be ashamed of. I _am_ the perfect package of beauty and brains," she declared haughtily with a small flip of her hair.

Vegeta snorted. No, she most certainly did _not_ know why he kept returning. But then again how could she? After all, the Woman hadn't been there on Arlia-sei.

"Is that what you really think?" he sneered, taking one menacing step towards her, inwardly grinning at the sudden tension that gripped her body.

Her delicate features suddenly twisted into a scowl, a hand rising to nervously clutch at her pendant. "Of course not, you bastard," she hissed, "If you just wanted a cheap fuck there are a million women out there who would be more than happy to be your whore. I highly doubt the Saiyan no Ouji would jump through inter-dimensional hoops just because he wanted to get laid."

The Woman's vulgar words earned her a bark of laughter and a dangerous gleam in his onyx eyes, "Don't speak as if you are familiar with me, you mouthy little bitch."

He was in front of her when she yanked at her pendant, holding her throat but careful not to crush it. She needed to suffer a bit more before he ended her life and perhaps free himself from this constant wandering into the dreamscapes.

A soft pop was heard but it was only when a current jolted through his body did he realize she had trained the muzzle of a weapon on him, her pathetic strength made him unable to feel the pressure she applied through his armor. He lost command of his body, seemingly along with his strength as he collapsed face-down on the ground.

"I _am_ familiar with you, Ouji-sama," she crooned. "At least enough to know that this version of you hasn't encountered capsules and wouldn't recognize one even if it was staring you right in the face."

He felt her slowly flip his paralyzed form onto his back, felt his blood boil as she straddled his chest, the skirt of her dress hiking up as her long legs locked his arms in place. He stared up the barrel of the oddly shaped pistol in her hand, able to do little else than growl beneath her as she fixed a hate-filled glare at him.

"This little baby disrupts your Ki to near zero and it also scrambles your nervous system so you can't even move. I managed to create it in a week," she narrated, "Now, I don't like to kill. Not in my nature as I prefer making my enemies hurt for as long as possible. I'm telling you this so you know that when I say I will build something that will render your Ki fucking unusable I _can_ build something that will render your Ki fucking unusable. And I know you wouldn't want _that_, my dear Saiyan no Ouji."

What the Woman didn't know was that she should have tested the gun on a Saiyan who still had his tail. Because by the time she had finished her spiel, Vegeta's body had recovered from the gun's effects.

He had their positions reversed so quickly her mind didn't even realized what had happened until she found herself on her back, in the compromising position of her legs over his shoulders and the gun flung out of her reach. She would have screamed except he was gripping her neck with enough pressure to make breathing near impossible.

"You _dare_ threaten me, you insolent whore?" he spat, his face a hair's breadth from hers. "What makes you think your backwater technology could be enough to stop me? Hell, what makes you think _you_ had a chance of stopping me?"

A strangled gurgle slipped through her lips, and he eased his hold. His smirk widened into a feral grin as her pale fingers clawed at his hand, his tail pushing her legs from his shoulders as he tore the gauzy dress from her body.

Blue eyes widened in terror when she realized she wasn't allowed to die just yet. And he gave a cruel chuckle, deciding then that he would make her want him before he killed her. She needed to be humbled first.

A deadly growl sounded.

It hadn't come from him.

Something powerful barreled against him and sent him crashing through the walls of the house.


	12. Clash

**Warnings: **None**  
Author's Notes: **It's a _very_ loose interpretation of the prompt.

**

* * *

Title:** Clash**  
Prompt:** Spank**  
Word Count:** 300

When the Woman had sharply told him not to meddle in her affairs Vegeta did what he had always done in the face of her demands: He ignored them and did as he damn well pleased. Which was why the instance he felt the presence of a stronger signature eclipse hers, the Saiyan was careening out of the GR towards the blue-haired woman's chambers.

The sudden plummet of the stronger Ki schooled his features into a smirk as he recalled his first-hand experience with the Woman's device. But the equally sudden leap the floundering Ki took had him cursing the Woman for being too slow, too softhearted to deal a killing blow. When all's said and done, she would have no right to deny him anything.

And Vegeta had already been denied too many things in his lifetime. Things that were his by desire, his by right, his by _fate_.

His birthright when Frieza forced him into servitude and destroyed his homeworld. His pride as the tyrant lizard beat him and his surviving people down. His vengeance on Frieza when that buffoon interfered and simultaneously denied him of his destiny by ascending before his Prince could.

He stilled in midair when he caught sight of himself –his other-self pinning the Woman to the ground by her throat. His entire form tensed and his Ki spiked sharply, recognizing what the stark madness in his other-self's face meant.

Vegeta was about to be denied the only thing on this miserable mudball that had actually challenged, quite possibly satisfied him. By a fucking _copy_ of himself.

That was simply too much. Too. Fucking. Much.

He had charged at his other-self at break-neck speed. Issuing a low growl as his only warning when he barely remembered that his doppelganger's death could alter their reality.


	13. Reckoning

**Warning:** None  
**Author's Notes:** Halfway through this update I realized that I am terrible at writing action scenes, which is why this is from Bulma's point of view.**

* * *

Title:** Reckoning  
**Prompt:** Rough  
**Word Count:** 1,250

With his grip around her throat cutting her breath, Bulma couldn't cry out as he tore her nightgown off her body. The promise of a slow, torturous death radiating in waves from his wicked glare left her paralyzed. She couldn't think, could only feel abject terror as she stared, unblinking, up into the abyss awaiting her in his dark, obsidian eyes, his body bearing down on her with no regard for anything but his revenge.

Light suddenly streaked before face, roughly knocking the oppressive weight off her frail body, and flooding her starving lungs with blessed air. Coughing and gasping she slowly rose to her feet, clutching at her throat and wincing as she gingerly touched the bruised skin. Explosions rocked the mansion, throwing her off-balance, and back down to the floor.

"No," she croaked, pushing herself back to her feet, stumbling towards the pair of battling Saiyan Princes, uncaring that she was clad only in her panties. "Don't kill him!" It was a hoarse rasp that should have been a shrill scream.

Bulma braced herself against the wall, or what was left of it, steadying herself from the constant blasts that sent tremors through the floors as she headed for the battle-zone that had once been the living room. Peering through one of the many boulder-sized holes, the blue-haired woman struggled to see what was happening.

They were moving too fast, far too fast for even the most seasoned human warrior to properly follow, let alone someone like her. All she could see were brief sparks when Ki-fire hit flesh and after-images that lingered just long enough for Bulma to make out the blows being traded before they wavered out of sight.

A gust of heated air pushed past her, warming her skin and singing the tips of her hair. Then came a loud crash as the thick pillar beside her crumbled from a stray ball of Ki. She screamed, her hands rising to shield her head, throwing herself forward and down to the ground away from the falling debris.

She thought she heard a furious growl somewhere ahead of her but couldn't be certain. Cautiously, she raised her head from the cover of her arms, squinting through the cloud of dust and smoke, and could almost make out two figures. "Don't kill him!" she repeated, hoping her voice was strong enough to travel the distance between her and the Saiyan.

"Have I sunk so low that a weak female dares to order me around?" Vegeta's injured voice mocked and was answered with a snarl and the sickening crunch of fracturing bones.

"Woman, stay back if you know what's good for you," warned a stronger voice thick with barely contained rage.

"Vegeta, please, I don't want anything to change!" she pleaded, her voice was strained and sounded so desperate but oh Kami she didn't _care_.

She heard a laugh, low and cruel and wet from the surplus of blood in the lungs. The haze settled and unhindered moonlight streamed into the room through the numerous holes peppering the roof and walls. Blue eyes focused on the silhouette of two men, and as her eyes adjusted she saw Vegeta, _her_ Vegeta, had his tailed double aloft.

One of the doppelganger's arms, twisted in an unnatural angle, lay limply by his side while the other gripped at the vice that was Vegeta's hand clamped round his throat. Despite the constricting hold, the double managed to leer at Bulma, onyx eyes glittering with dark promise. "Sounds like you've spoiled your slave a little too much. I'm more than willing to remind her of her station."

Bulma's cheeks grew hot in outrage, "S-slave? You fucking son-of-a-" her diatribe was cut off when Vegeta growled low in Saiya-go. The doppelganger laughed something back in the same language, eyes never once leaving Bulma, the wicked grin on his lips widening.

Light filled the room so intensely bright it was blinding. Energy slammed against her, hurtling her towards an unbroken section of the wall, causing stars to wink before her eyes as she slid to the floor. Despite the dull throb on the back of her head, she brought her hands up to cover her ears from the deafening clap of thunder that followed, muting the rest of the conversation between the Saiyan Princes.

When the light dimmed and the noise died down, she dared to open her eyes and her breath caught in her throat. There was Vegeta, _her_ Vegeta, standing over her, aglow with a golden aura and studying her with teal eyes.

"Super Saiyan." She stated dumbly, all thoughts of the doppelganger seemed far and distant and unimportant. "When did-?"

"Just now," was his curt answer. And for the life of her, Bulma didn't understand why he wasn't as happy as she thought he would be. She was expecting arrogance and haughtiness and that aggravatingly smug smirk he used in lieu of a smile whenever something genuinely pleased him. This was what he'd been training for all these months, why he "put up with her ridiculous inanities."

So why was he scowling at her as if she had just committed an unspeakable act of dishonor in his name?

"He won't be returning," he informed her gruffly, arms folded across his chest.

"You killed him?" she whispered tremulously, earning her an offended growl and a sharp flare of his Ki. She shielded her eyes, instinctively wincing from the glare of his aura and the heat pouring from him. "S-sorry."

"You should be, Woman," he growled, bending down to help her to her feet. "How can you claim to be a genius if you're stupid enough to think you could handle me _-him_ on your own?"

"But I didn't plan to handle him on my own," she pouted, "I had you." She fought the urge to smirk when she heard him strangle a snarl in his throat.

"Woman, you made it perfectly clear you wanted no help from me."

"Since when do you ever listen to anything I say?" she chuckled, her eyes softening as she smiled, watching him power down. She pressed her hands against his chest, savoring his heat through the bodysuit that bore no signs of the scuffle he had been in, grinning inwardly as she thought how severely out of his league the doppelganger must have felt. "I knew you'd keep an eye on me."

He studied her in a mixture of confusion and pride and more than little bit of anger before finally asking, "How can you still trust me? After everything I've done?" tensing as his eyes focused on the necklace of bruises she wore. "After everything _he's_ done?"

Bulma leaned closer, answering him with unwavering confidence "Because he's not you."

"I was him."

"Was." She said, staring into his eyes. "Not anymore. He did things to me that you could have just as easily done at any given time since Namek. But you didn't."

"Perhaps I'm just waiting for a more opportune time," he murmured, his hands settling on her hips before pulling her flush against him.

"Then go ahead and do it," she challenged. "You can always blame him. No one would know the truth."

He studied her silently for an uncomfortably long period of time. Then the corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly into a smirk as he scooped her into his arms. "You, Woman, are foolish and mad."

"And you are a genuine asshole. I think that makes us even." She grinned.


	14. Why?

**Warnings:** None  
**Author's Notes:** Looks like Vegeta's not the only one with an other-self.**

* * *

Title:** Why?  
**Prompt:** Furtive  
**Word Count:** 100

"Dig a bit more to your left," Bulma instructed as she fiddled with the scouter that used to belong to Radditz.

"Found it!" Puar declared, shaking his fur free of desert sand, paws holding the dragon ball.

"Great, that just leaves-" the blue-haired heiress trailed off, body trembling when frost-fingered fear gripped her for no apparent reason.

"What's wrong?" the feline asked.

"N-nothing," she shook her head. "Let's hurry and find the rest so we can bring Goku back to life. Those Saiyans will be here any day now."

As Puar went ahead, Bulma turned her gaze skyward and shuddered.


	15. Decision

**Warning:** None  
**Author's Notes:** Frost-fingered fear doesn't grip you for no apparent reason, Bulma. Two updates for the price of one because they're so short! Only three more updates and this drabble-fic is done.

* * *

**Title:** Decision  
**Prompt:** Injured  
**Word Count:** 300

Onyx eyes shot open to the disorientation of waking and the padded interior of a one-man spacepod. He was bleeding through his pristine bodysuit, skin bruised beneath unmarred armor, and was certain he had more than a couple of fractured bones aside from the ones in his broken arm. But despite the pain searing through him, Vegeta was grinning and his tail swayed excitedly within the tight confines of his pod.

What that Arlia-jin freedom fighter told him made sense now. He finally understood why he was drawn to the Woman.

He closed his eyes, recalling with amusement the events that had transpired. It hadn't surprised him. Not in the least. He knew he would ascend; it was his destiny. What had surprised him was the trigger.

_"The Woman has been claimed," his other-self had growled in Saiya-go._

_"Since when did_ that _ever stop us from taking what we wanted?" he taunted, laughing in spite of the burning agony of his numerous injuries._

_He saw other-self's eyes flash, heard the sharp crack of lightning, and found himself pinned in a crater where his back met the floor. It wasn't the ki-ball hovering in the inches between his heart and his other-self's fingertips that robbed him of the ability to speak. _

_It was the sight of his other-self as a Super Saiyan._

_"Since I'm more powerful than you, you miserable piece of shit!" his other-self glowered, "Get your own Chikyuu to fuck up and your own Woman to terrorize. This one's_ mine! _If you come back to my reality and threaten what is mine to kill, I will end you, to hell with fucking over the time-stream."_

Vegeta ran his tongue over bloodstained teeth and grinned, knowing that his journey through dreams had come to an end. "Get my own, huh?"


	16. Sure

**Warnings:** None  
**Author's Notes:** At least _someone_ gets a happy ending. Here, have two more really short updates!

* * *

**Title:** Sure  
**Prompt:** Freedom  
**Word Count:** 200

The morning sky turned dark as Shen-Long was summoned. The Wish Dragon stared down at the individuals who had, not for the first and undoubtedly not the last time, managed to gather the seven dragon balls.

"State your wish," his deep, otherworldly voice reverberated through the air.

Bulma stepped forward, blue eyes fixed on the celestial creature's scaled face. "I wish that the other-Vegeta would not be able to come to this world ever again." She held her breath, hands clasped together in a silent prayer that Shen-Long would be able to grant her request, hoping that they've convinced the doppelganger it was best if he didn't return.

Crimson, reptillian eyes glowed for a brief moment before the dragon reared his head to declare, "Wish granted!"

By the time the sky brightened to azure, Shen-Long was gone.

ChiChi happily embraced Bulma while apologizing that she couldn't have done more for her friend. Goku, in his usual carefree fashion, gave Vegeta a friendly clap on the back, "I knew you weren't such a bad guy."

Vegeta swatted the other Saiyan's hand away with a growl, "Don't assume anything's changed between us, Kakarrot. The Woman is useful to me. _That_ is all."


	17. Found

**Warning:** None  
**Author's Notes:** In the manga, Bulma was wearing a dress when the Saiyans arrived. And this makes a reference to the events in **"Why?"**

* * *

**Title:** Found  
**Prompt:** Bait  
**Word Count:** 400

"Th-they've finally come..." Roshi swallowed thickly. His head suddenly tilted in surprise when he turned and found Bulma fiddling with the buttons on the scouter.

As the device beeped to life, the blue-haired woman's brows knitted in concern and confusion. "This is weird. The two Saiyans are moving but they seem to have split up. One of them is headed for where I think Piccolo and Gohan are but the other is..."

Her blue eyes widened and she was bolting for the door, pulling out a palette of capsules she had stashed in the breast pocket of her dress.

"Bulma? Where are you going?" Roshi demanded.

"To get my parents." She decapsulated two capsules, revealing an aircar and a weapon she'd been working on since she felt an ominous weight settle in her stomach that day in the desert. Climbing into the vehicle she explained, "The other one is headed for the general area of Capsule Corp."

"You can't do anything to stop him! You're going to get yourself killed!" ChiChi gasped, horrified.

"I'm not going to fight him!" she rolled her eyes, "I'll use the scouter to avoid him. He's probably looking for really strong Ki levels and will ignore mine."

_I hope._

Without giving her friends the chance to stop her, Bulma took off. She pressed a button on the dashboard, waited with tension for the crackle of static to even out into a series of rings.

"Hello?"

"Poppa, listen to me because this is very important. I'm on my way there to take you and momma somewhere safe, go get ready," she instructed, glad it was her father who had answered.

"What's the matter?" he asked, noticing her clipped tone.

"I'll explain when I get there." With that she hung up.

Checking the scouter, she almost screamed when she saw the Saiyan was nearing Capsule Corp.

_Kami, please let me get there in time._

The aircar landed in front of the mansion without incident. With the engine still running and her weapon strapped to her leg, Bulma got out and ran for the mansion.

She hadn't even reached the doors when an overwhelming pressure displaced the air behind her. Before the notion to turn around to look formed in her mind, a powerful arm had wrapped around her, locking her arms at her sides. In her ear, a deep, velvety voice snarled: "No escape this time, Woman."


	18. Reward

**Warning:** Suggestive scenes. May also make you want to Buick the author because a brick is not enough.  
**Author's Notes:** Yes, this drabble-fic is _done_. Is it a terrible place to end? Definitely. Will there be a sequel? It would really depend on whether or not I get inspiration and the kind of prompts that come out at the LJ comm. For now, I will focus on my other unfinished fics. (Play Nice and Only Once, I'm looking at you both.)

* * *

**Title:** Reward  
**Prompt:** Misunderstanding  
**Word Count:** 1,300

"Finally on Chikyuu," Vegeta smirked to himself as he exited his one-man spacepod, not at all surprised to hear a startled growl from his companion.

"O-Ouji-sama! What happened?" the tall, mustached Saiyan's meaty fists were clenched in rage at the dried blood staining his liege's bodysuit.

"Calm yourself, Nappa," the Prince waved his hand in dismissal, the injuries he'd sustained against his other-self having healed over the months-long journey to the planet.

"It was that Kanassa-jin's doing, wasn't it? He put some sort of curse on you! I knew I should have killed him the moment I saw him."

Vegeta quirked a curios brow, "Kanassa-jin?" He had only heard of the race and their mystical abilities that could transcend time and space.

"Yes, I just realized he wasn't a different specie of Arlia-jin on the way here."

"Weren't they were all wiped out years ago?" Vegeta asked absently, ignoring the crowd of Chikyuu-jins that had gathered.

"That one must have escaped and took refuge on Arlia-sei." Nappa on the other hand had taken great interest in their audience with a cruel grin, "_These_ insects won't be so lucky." But before the big brute could act out his intentions, he was plowed face first into the ground.

"Not just yet," Vegeta growled darkly, knowing Nappa's tendency to go overboard. He wasn't certain how far away the Woman's residence was, only that his instincts were telling him it was nearby. "These pathetic creatures can wait. We have more important things to take care of."

Raising his head, Nappa remembered, "Oh yeah. The Dragon Balls. Forgive me, Ouji-sama."

Vegeta only snorted as he lifted his hold from the big man's nape, narrowing his eyes in annoyance that he'd nearly forgotten about the wish-granting artifacts. _All because of her,_ he thought. He heard the faint tapping of buttons before his companion declared in mild surprise. "How can there be several high-level readings on a backwater planet like this?"

"They don't matter," Vegeta smirked. He was confident no one would prove to be a challenge to begin with and having fought and survived his other-self, he'd only gotten stronger. "You can go and greet them if you feel so inclined. Just make sure you only kill _them_ and only after you've learned about the Dragon Balls."

"Where are you going, Ouji-sama?" Nappa asked as Vegeta took to the sky.

The younger Saiyan halted in mid-air, the feral glee audible as he answered wolfishly, "To turn that Kanassa-jin's curse into a blessing."

It didn't take him long to locate the large compound where the Woman resided, thanks largely in part to the inexplicable tug at his instincts. It took even less time for him to spot her exiting a vehicle and dashing for the doors.

He grinned. This time he had her, there was nowhere for her to run, and no one to interfere.

She was stock-still in his grip, for all of two seconds before she stated evenly, "I don't have the Dragon Balls and I don't know where they are. So just leave me alone."

Vegeta chuckled, the scent of fear pouring from her and the trembling of her body betraying her supposed calm. He wasn't surprised she knew of his original purpose for coming to Chikyuu, although he doubted she knew why he was after her as well. "Normally I would, except I'm not after _just_ the Dragon Balls."

Her breath caught in her throat when his free hand suddenly slid up her thigh, her entire form tensing when he reached the hem of her skirt. "W-what do you think you're doing!" she screeched.

"Disarming you," he answered with a smirk as he wrenched away the weapon strapped to her leg, if only to undermine whatever semblance of hope she had. "Why do you ask?" his smirk widened. When she held her silence, he whispered into the shell of her ear, "Did you think I was going to do this?"

A startled gasp slipped past her lips when his tail uncoiled around his waist and snaked between her legs to brush at the junction of her thighs. Instinctively she jerked away from the touch of his furred appendage, unintentionally pressing herself flush against him. His free hand moved up her sides, fingers splaying briefly over her ribs before cupping her breast through the fabric and giving her a painful squeeze.

She cried out as he groped her, twisting and writhing in his grip. Her squirms only serving to grind that pert ass of hers against his crotch, earning her an amused chuckle and having the front of her dress ripped open. She gasped in pain and shock, blue eyes widening in outrage when he began to paw at her exposed breasts, gloved hands roughly kneading her sensitive flesh, all the while his tail continued to stroke at her core.

"S-stop that!" she hissed, nails digging into her palms so hard crimson crescents bloomed.

The scent of her blood reached his nose and he growled appreciatively into the crook of her neck, enjoying the fear and anger she was radiating. His tail slithered up her skirt and stopped where the fabric had split open.

"N-no, no!" she cried as his tail tore away the remnants of her dress, leaving her clad only in her panties, and shoes and Radditz's modified scouter. "Why are you _doing_ this to me?" she half-sobbed half-snarled, trying to twist free from his grip, only succeeding in having his hold tighten further while his tail continued to tease her folds through her remaining garment.

"Punishment," the word a low rumble in his chest. Punishment for the humiliation of having been caught by her other-self, for the undeniable need and all-consuming want she had set alight inside him, for being the key to his ascension despite being so weak and frail and extremely breakable.

"You asshole, I've never done anything to you!"

Vegeta didn't care that she didn't know what he was talking about. He was enjoying himself too much. Her swallowed whimpers, the panicked hammering of her heart, the trembling of her body, the potency of her essence as he toyed with her had him grinning arrogantly that she had yet managed to stir his own arousal.

He let out a furious growl when the scouter alerted him of someone approaching from the air. The power level was too low to be Nappa's but higher than the typical Chikyuu-jin. Swiftly, Vegeta lifted himself and the Woman off the ground to fly towards the room he seemed to recall was hers. He felt her go rigid as they landed on the balcony and she began to struggle anew.

"N-no! Oh Kami, no! Don't!"

He cut off the rest of her frightened pleas when he sank his teeth into her flesh, the coppery flavor of her blood flooding his mouth as he broke skin. She gave out a loud keening wail of pain before finding herself being dropped to the floor.

"Consider that a taste of what's to come," Vegeta chuckled, observing her as she lay in a surprised daze, resisting the urge to mount her invitingly prone form. There will be plenty of time for that and more later, he decided.

She slowly sat up, raising an arm protectively over her exposed chest while her other hand clutched at her bleeding neck. Her shoulders seemed incapable of stilling as she turned to him, blue eyes wide in a mixture of stark terror, disgusted shame, and unmitigated loathing. She swallowed thickly, inching slowly away from him, but never once breaking away from his gaze.

"Go ahead and run, or hide, for all the good either will do you," he laughed. And he was suddenly on top of her, his face inches above hers when he whispered against her lips, "I'll be back."

* * *

**Thank's:** Nintendocat, HikariNeko33, and Maddie-san (for all our crazy convo's in the LJ comm) and YourSweetSinner (for your constant reviews).


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